Instinct
by Nephthys Snape
Summary: Bilbo misses home. A Hobbit is ever drawn to comfort, and the journey across Middle Earth provides little. What little he does find, he clings to. It just so happens he finds the most comfort from Balin. Balin/Bilbo one-shot.


Disclaimer - I do not own setting/characters. I do not make a profit.

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"You look troubled, lad," Balin spoke as he sat down beside Bilbo. The Hobbit looked up from where he'd been ruminating over their journey and chewing at the end of his pipe as much as smoking. Balin had approached without him hearing, which said something for how distracted he'd been with his thoughts. With the exception of Nori, they weren't the sneaking type, and there certainly was no reason to sneak up to Bilbo. If for nothing else, Balin was courteous enough to let noise announce his approach.

The Hobbit lowered his pipe and offered a small smile. "Not particularly troubled, just contemplative."

Balin didn't look like he believed Bilbo. "You looked fit to bite that pipe in two." A large, warm hand came to rest on Bilbo's shoulder. "Now, what's the matter? Best not let things fester." The way the Dwarf's eyes darted to Thorin across the camp was not lost on the Hobbit.

"Nothing serious as all that." Bilbo put his pipe back in his mouth, puffing at it thoughtfully a moment. He wasn't terribly sure how to explain without sounding childish, and maybe he was. Truth was he had no idea how the others did it, roamed about without the warmth and safety of home. Deep down, where he could never admit to his fellows, he pitied them, even though they'd hate him for it. Dwarves were far too honorable and strong, too damned _prideful_, for a silly thing like pity, even when offered by a caring friend.

Patient as ever, Balin sat beside him and waited. Bilbo took comfort in the Dwarf's presence. In his own ways, Balin reminded the Hobbit of home. His presence was safe, calm, friendly, warm. What more could a Hobbit ask for? Hobbits lived for comfort, friends, family, security, and the older Dwarf spun a good story as well. While Bofur was also all those things, and a good friend besides, there was simply something about Balin that felt like a balm to Bilbo's anxieties and homesickness.

Balin was the safest, a part of him said, and he couldn't deny that piece, that place in him full of all his good sense, especially not when he'd done so much ignoring it otherwise.

Bilbo didn't realize he'd been so quiet for so long until the hand that was still resting on his shoulder; why hadn't he noticed it still there large, warm, and so strong; gave a squeeze and the Dwarf's arm went about his back to grip the shoulder opposite. "Seems a lot on your mind, laddie. I won't judge you."

Heaving a small sigh, Bilbo shifted, trying not to lean into the Dwarf and the friendly gesture. Balin surely wouldn't know what to do about a clingy Hobbit, but the touch was quite comforting. "It will seem silly, to you." He turned the pipe in his hand, smoothing his thumb along the shape absently. The pipe had been his father's, and if not for having it safe in his pocket, it would have been lost long before. It was his only piece of home left. For a moment, he felt a pang of pain at the loss of his precious books, books that had also belonged to his father.

Balin gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze. "No, laddie, it won't. I know how you feel," he said, trailing off quietly.

Glancing up, Bilbo saw the Dwarf staring in the direction he assumed Erebor waited. Hesitantly, he placed a hand on Balin's knee. Dwarves, for the way they were constantly pushing and jabbing at one another, were twitching about 'softer' touches, but if Balin was comfortable touching him, then he could return the favor. It was only fair he be able to comfort, too. "We'll get there. You'll see your home again."

"I came over here to comfort _you_, lad." He chuckled. "Hobbits are truly amazing creatures, Bilbo. You'll see your home again, too. It's the least we could do for you."

Bilbo gave a faint smile, ignoring the way his cheeks felt too warm at being called amazing. "We might not survive to see that much done." He was resigned to that. The Shire was weeks behind, and it would take a miracle for him to ever see her again.

"A wise man once said to never give up hope. He'd not want to see you despair so, you mean a great deal to him." Balin smiled and reached with his free hand for Bilbo's pipe resting in a lax grip against his thigh. Bilbo didn't begrudge him. They were friends, as far as he was concerned, and friends shared such things. He watched the Dwarf take a small drag of smoke from it. "I'll see you home, lad. You're seeing us to ours, and I will return that kindness."

The Hobbit gave a small smile. "Thank you, for _your_ kindness, Mister Balin." The older Dwarf had no reason to go out of his way for the Hobbit, and Bilbo knew so much could change before there was even the possibility to return home. Hope, of any kind, was becoming harder to hold onto.

His shoulders were given a strong squeeze. "Best rest up, lad. We enter the Misty Mountains tomorrow. It will be the hardest part of our journey yet." Balin removed his arm and gave Bilbo's back a pat before standing. He rested Bilbo's pipe where he'd been sitting then walked over to sit with his brother and Thorin.

Bilbo picked up his pipe and snuffed it out before hiding it safely away in his inside pocket. Taking Balin's advice, he went to his bedroll and lied down. It was chilly but not so much he was too uncomfortable, so he settled down to sleep.

Balin was right about the mountains. They were cold, even in summer, and the terrain was nearly impassable. Bilbo struggled. He had no hope not to when even the Dwarves did at times. Dwalin took to sticking with him and Ori, the two of them having the most trouble. It was nice of him, but Bilbo felt a burden because of it. That Dwalin was so gruff and distant didn't make it any better, almost like he looked down on them because of their struggle. Bilbo reasoned it was only because the road was hard on the warrior, too. He didn't want to think poor of him.

After that, they came across Giants and Goblins and Orcs. The sheer terror and thrill of a ride on the Eagles was lost to exhaustion and worry. His mind tried to catch up to what all had happened, but it seemed to be frozen. Something told him it was shock, but he didn't have the energy or gumption to care.

In Beorn's hall, they could finally rest and heal. Bilbo sat in front of the fire staring off in thought and holding his pipe, broken when he'd fallen in the Goblin cave. In truth, he was probably still in a bit of shock after it all and the pipe was just a bit of icing on the cake. Part of him felt like crying.

Again, Balin was able to come up to him unnoticed. "Alright there, lad?"

Bilbo looked up at him, giving a faint smile. "I'm fine." He set the pipe aside. "And you, Mister Balin?" His own troubles could wait while he gave his attention to the Dwarf. Balin had been kind to him, and he'd do no less in turn.

The Dwarf smiled and sat beside him. "Just fine." He glanced around Bilbo, at the pipe. "Bofur might be able to mend that."

"I think it's a lost cause." He offered the Dwarf a faint smile. "It's just a pipe." And it was, even if Bilbo felt as cracked as the pipe in that moment.

"Seems to be more than that." Balin looked at him with gentle eyes.

Bilbo couldn't lie to him. "It was my father's." He had a Hobbit hole full of things that had been belonged to his parents. He shouldn't care so much about a simple pipe; it wasn't even one of the best ones.

"Then it is more than 'just a pipe,' lad." Balin held out a rough, battle worn hand. A moment passed then Bilbo realized he wanted the pipe. Picking the pieces up, he placed them in the Dwarf's larger hand.

Balin pulled his own pipe out of his pocket and handed it to the Hobbit before focusing his attention to the pieces. They turned over in his hands as he examined the way it was broke in two. Holding the ends together, he seemed to be trying to see how Bofur or Bifur might fix it.

"I really think it's a lost cause," Bilbo told him, again. He couldn't fathom how it would be mended.

"Can't hurt to try." The Dwarf's smile was gentle. He slipped the pieces into his pocket. "I can't promise anything."

Bilbo smiled a little and got up to light Balin's pipe. "Thank you, Balin. It means enough you wanting to try. You don't need to go through the trouble." He moved from the hearth back to the Dwarf's side.

"Let a Dwarf fuss over a friend when he likes, lad." Balin's eyes danced as he smiled at Bilbo. "We take our crafts and our friendships very serious."

Feeling his spirits lifted, Bilbo gave a more genuine smile. "I'm honored you think me a friend."

"Of course you are, Bilbo." Balin rested a hand on the Hobbit's shoulder and squeezed.

The Hobbit smiled broader. As skeptical about things as Balin could be, he was the first one to explain things to Bilbo, didn't seem to mind the Hobbit's presence or naivety, and now, to call him friend.

They sat in silence for a time, passing the pipe. The others joined them one or two at a time until all of them sat before the great fireplace. They talked and joked, relaxed and at ease for the time being. Bilbo smiled to himself, happy to see it, as he continued to sit quietly and listen to the voices around him.

Eventually, though, he began to tire. Easing off his seat, he smiled up at Balin and handed him his pipe. "This Hobbit needs some rest," he told him softly, not wanting to intrude on Bofur's grand storytelling.

"Rest well, Bilbo," Balin told him with a friendly gaze.

Shuffling off, Bilbo made his way to his bedroll and stretched out to sleep, finding it more easily than he had of late.

While they were at Beorn's, the Hobbit spent more time with Balin, listening to his stories and getting to know what he could of the Dwarves in the company and Dwarves on a whole. There was much he knew that Balin could not tell him, for Bilbo was not a Dwarf and their secrets were their own, though Bilbo felt they kept some of the oddest things secret, things no one would really give a second thought to. But, he didn't scoff. No, it wasn't his place to judge, so he'd simply give a small nod of understanding when he'd blunder across something or the other.

Balin never mentioned Bilbo's pipe, but he was always more than happy to share his own. In turn, Bilbo was more than happy for the excuse to be in the Dwarf's company. When it came time to leave the shape changer's home, Bilbo felt a great reluctance. It had been nice, staying there.

The road ahead looked cold and dark, figuratively more than physically, and the way that the others grew pensive informed him that there was more to the next part of their journey than was being told. Gandalf and Thorin were often hissing soft words at one another, expressions full of ire and stubbornness.

The Hobbit couldn't help but pull back a bit, grow distant from the others as he stilled himself for going back out into the wilderness and risk life and limb for a group of Dwarves, most of which he wasn't even sure he could call friend. He was hesitant again, when he'd promised himself he wouldn't be, that he'd see them home.

"No one would blame you, Master Baggins," a rough voice spoke up behind him as he stood outside Beorn's home and stared back at the Misty Mountains.

He was used to the Dwarves moving around the yard, so he'd paid no mind to the shadow that had come up behind him. In that moment, though, he wished he had. Things had gotten a lot easier between he and Thorin, but he knew he was still just a tool, a means to an end. Turning, he looked at the regal Dwarf. "Blame me?" He asked, only having an inkling of what the other meant. Thorin was expecting him to run, like his aborted attempt in the cave what seemed so very long ago.

"You've come farther than any of us could have expected, been stronger and more resilient than we gave your people credit. We both know this is no place for you." He watched Bilbo with a cool, assessing gaze that made a shiver run along the Hobbit's spine.

"Perhaps." He turned his back on Thorin again and watched the mountains. "Perhaps not. It's not for either of us to say. I am here, now, and I as much as you may wish for me to, I have no intention of giving up. As little as you think of me, I spoke true. I will see you all home again. Everyone deserves a home, the home of their choice."

He could feel Thorin's heavy gaze on his back, and he was certain the other was upset for having been turned away from. He was one that demanded attention, just by breathing, really. No doubt he wasn't used to being so easily dismissed, but Thorin was not going to get to him, he told himself. Not again.

"I do not understand you," Thorin spoke, a growl to his voice. "You are most confusing and frustrating. What do you get out of this? The treasure? I thought Hobbits were above such things as gems and gold."

"Is that why you agreed with Gandalf, to bring a Hobbit? As large as you say your treasure is, a fourteenth would split between thirteen Dwarves quite wealthfully." He turned to face the other again. "If I have no use for your blasted treasure that just means more for you."

Thorin narrowed his eyes. "So you are doing this for the treasure."

"You are the most miserable, irritating, mule headed _creature_ I have ever had the _misfortune_ to meet!" He snapped at him, quite loudly.

The Dwarf growled menacingly and stepped closer to the Hobbit. "Careful, Burglar," he warned, hands clenching at his sides.

"Oh, yes, get violent. Yavanna knows you can't respond in any other fashion. I _pity_ you, Thorin Oakenshield. You're a great oaf blinded to the world around him truly with a heart of stone." He moved to walk around the Dwarf, giving a soft yelp as his upper arm was grabbed in a strong, viselike grip.

"Now, lads." Balin came up to them, trying a gentle smile and a soft tone. "This journey has been hard on the both of you, and taking it out on one another does no one any good, least of all you."

Thorin shot the other Dwarf a glare then let go of Bilbo. "Yes, coddle your Hobbit, Balin. Mahal knows he's not had enough of that in his life," he spit out before turning and stalking away like a dark and foreboding storm cloud.

Balin shook his head and stepped up to Bilbo. "I begin to worry one of you will kill the other before we reach our goal," he offered with a faint smile, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

"We both know who'd kill who." Bilbo touched his arm lightly. He could still feel the constricting touch. Likely, he'd bruise. Dwarves were so blasted _strong_.

"I'm not so sure." He came forward and gently placed his hand on Bilbo's pain free arm. "Come, lad. Let's see if we can't put something on your arm. Thorin forgets his strength and is used to grabbing hold of unruly Dwarf princes, not softer Hobbits."

Bilbo walked with him easily. "Don't make excuses for him. He wanted to hurt me." Hobbits were as stubborn as Dwarves, after all, and he wasn't going to just let it go.

"You do know how to get strong reactions out of him. Perhaps it is that you are, in some ways, far too much alike. You just express yourselves in differing manners." He offered Bilbo a gentle smile as he got him into the shade of a tree. "Now sit. I'll be right back."

Bilbo leaned against the tree with a sigh and watched him go off toward where the Hobbit could see Óin and Gloin sitting with Bifur. The exchange was brief, Óin getting something out of the bag at his side to hand to Balin, and then Balin was on his way back to Bilbo. The Hobbit reluctantly removed his shirt as Balin came to his side, flushing a little as he always did when he had to get in any state of undress in front of one of the others.

Balin didn't say a word as he knelt down and put balm on Bilbo's arm. "There now. That should help." He smiled and wiped his hand off on his pants. Shifting around, he sat back against the tree with Bilbo and closed the jar of balm.

"Thank you, Balin." Bilbo sighed softly. "You have made this journey far easier on me than I believe it would have been otherwise." He rested his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. His arm tingled a little from the initial chill of the balm, but the pain was easing to be replaced by soothing warmth. Óin really was clever with his ointments.

Balin gave a soft chuckle. "It's my pleasure, lad." Bilbo heard him shift, from the sounds of it pulling out his pipe as he heard the sound of the flint. Then the air was lightly scented with the leaf Beorn had on hand to offer them. It wasn't as strong as Dwarvish leaf, which sometimes felt like it was trying to burn Bilbo's lungs from his chest, nor was it as grassy as Hobbit leaf. There was a distinct sweet and fruitiness to the one Balin was smoking, though Bilbo preferred the smooth woody one Beorn made to this particular one.

The scent was soothing, though, and he didn't realize he was dozing off until he woke however long later. The sky was still bright, but the sun had clearly moved. The scent of the smoke was still all around him, but it was laced now with a deeper, soothing earthy scent that was musky, rich, and not quite metallic. He shifted and froze. His head was pillowed against something that was definitely not a tree. He sat up suddenly, and would have fallen over on his other side if not for a sudden hand on his shoulder.

"Easy, Bilbo," Balin's voice drew his focus. He looked up at the Dwarf, taking in his gentle smile and felt his face flame.

"I'm terribly sorry, Balin. I didn't mean to mistake you for my pillow." He sat up and shifted around.

The Dwarf laughed. "No harm done. You were resting peacefully, that's what matters." He continued to smile at him. "How does your arm fair?"

For a moment, he didn't recall why his arm should be bothering him at all, either one of them, and then he remembered. "It's alright," he told him, touching it gingerly but he found it not to be painful at all, for the moment.

"Good. I believe it's about time for a meal. I imagine that's why you woke," he teased lightly before standing to his feet. A large, rough hand extended toward Bilbo to help him to his feet, and the Hobbit couldn't refuse such a kind offer.

They made their way inside, sitting with the others to have their meal. Bilbo focused on the fine foods and filled his stomach as much as he could. After the next morning, there'd be no good meals for who knew how long. He'd been sure to feed himself well while he had the chance, knowing how hard it could be to come by food on the road.

He didn't speak to Thorin again, not then and not throughout the rest of the day or even the next morning. Balin and Bofur were the ones he spent the most time with, and on occasion Ori or the princes. Like all the other times he and Thorin had disagreed, it was put behind him and he moved forward. In the end, it didn't really matter what Thorin thought of him, so long as he did right by those who did seem to care.

More often than not, it came down to him wanting to do this for Balin. Bilbo didn't put much thought to that fact, didn't really acknowledge it at all. At least not until he was scurrying through an Elven king's dungeons looking for said Dwarf. He felt his stomach in knots at the fact that something could have happened to the company, but especially that something could have happened to Balin. No matter how logical he tried to be about it, all that mattered was he found the Dwarf and saw with his own two eyes that he was, indeed, alive and whole.

When he started finding them, he checked over each of them, took messages and answered questions, but the racing of his heart, the stone in the pit of his stomach didn't ease until he found Balin. It wasn't really the time, then, to analyze why. He simply reached in as best he could until he felt strong fingers wrap around his own.

Before he could even speak, Balin did. "Are you alright, laddie?" And wasn't that just like Balin to ask after him, when Bilbo wasn't the one stuck in a cage.

"I'm fine. Worried sick after you, but I'm fine. I'll find a way to get you out of here. I've seen everyone but Thorin and Dwalin. From the curses I hear down that way, I imagine Dwalin's not far." He didn't try to pull his hand free, didn't notice the clutch around it had gone on for so long as he was far too happy to feel the touch to put any meaning to the way Balin was almost clinging to him.

Balin gave a faint chuckle and rested his forehead to the back of Bilbo's hand. "Aye, that sounds like my brother." His voice sounded tired, and Bilbo wanted nothing more than to get the door open and offer him more comfort than a hand through a small opening of bars.

"Rest, Balin, and eat the food they bring you. I'll be back as soon as I can." He tried to squeeze the hand holding his own captive.

The Dwarf moved, and Bilbo wasn't sure but it felt like he grazed the back of Bilbo's hands with his lips as he lifted his head. It wasn't the time to think too much on it as Balin let go of him. "I have faith in you, Bilbo. If anyone can get us free, it will be our clever Hobbit."

Reluctantly, he had to leave his friend's cell to continue his search. In the end, he did find Dwalin but it took him another day and a half to locate Thorin. After that, days blurred as he worked on a way to get his friends free. When the answer came to him, he knew they'd not like it, but there was little to be done for it.

The ride from the wood was miserable. Bilbo didn't feel like moving once he was on dry land again. He ached and was cold, but he got up and helped the others. He would have done more, had he not found himself wrapped in strong arms from behind. An indignant squawk left him as he was lifted off his feet for a brief moment.

Once he was standing again, he turned and stared up at Balin. The behavior was not typical, save where interactions with Dwalin were concerned. He still remembered the way they'd slammed their heads together. It was a wonder they'd not knocked themselves senseless.

"It is good to see you, lad, and to be out of that horrible forest." Balin smiled at him.

"Indeed," Thorin said as he stepped up to them. "Again, you have proved your worth and humbled me, Bilbo. Thank you."

Bilbo felt embarrassed, but he was too cold to feel any warmth bloom in his cheeks. "Now what do we do?" He asked them, looking around at all the dripping Dwarves.

"The Men of the Lake are our only choice at present." Thorin looked less than pleased. "We make for Lake Town."

The Hobbit didn't have much use for Men, even if they were the ones Hobbits had the most experience with. Or maybe it was because of that. Men were loud and disrespectful creatures, and like Elves and Dwarves, had not much use for anyone that wasn't what they were. He supposed, in their own way, Hobbits were that way, too, but they were always somewhat welcoming, even if they found another to be odd. It was only good manners, after all, and Men went so far as to be bigoted and hateful to their own kind, as well. Most were short sighted and careless creatures.

Elves and Dwarves had treated him better than most Men had. Bilbo wasn't looking forward to a town full of them. He'd stick close to the Dwarves and hopefully go unnoticed.

And that was exactly what he did. Of course, it was easy to stay away from Men when you were holed up sick. Óin and Balin were always looking after him, and Bofur often came for brief visits to try to lift his spirits. Balin only left when he had to see to matters with Thorin. Bilbo was so thankful for his friend, but he was too tired and weak to think to thank him. He was more than grateful for the care, though, and once he was back on his feet, he made sure to pull Balin aside.

"I've already thanked Óin and Bofur, but I owe you my thanks as well." He offered Balin a gentle smile. "You've made the last few days bearable. Truly, you've made the entire journey bearable. I can never repay the kindness you've given to me, but I want you to know how grateful I really I am for it all."

Balin rested his hand on Bilbo's shoulder, and the Hobbit was so familiar with the touch he hated to think of after the mountain, when he'd go home and never feel it again. "You don't need to thank me, Bilbo. It was my honor and my pleasure." He smiled down at the Hobbit.

Along the road, somewhere, things had started to change. Bilbo knew that, he'd known all along that things were shifting into something he didn't have experience with or words for. The way he felt when Balin stood close to him, talked to him, _touched_ him… Bilbo ached deeply when he thought he'd have to go without it for a day, much as he had in Mirkwood. And here they stood, so very close to Erebor and the end of the journey. Truth be told, he wanted to sit and weep for what he was to lose. He'd gained so much, and it was all to be taken away from him.

"Bilbo?" He realized Balin was frowning at him now and looking a little blurry around the edges. "Bilbo, lad, whatever is wrong?" The Dwarf led him to a seat and sat beside him. "Come now. Everything's alright."

He sniffed and pulled out a handkerchief, a true one that Bofur had brought in to gift to him while he'd been sick, and dabbed at his eyes. "I'm alright. Just everything catching up with me," he told him, finding the ability to lie so much easier than it'd ever been before. "Still a bit tired, and I think I could out eat Bombur at the moment."

Balin threw his head back and laughed at that. "A sight that would be. Let us get some real food into your stomach, then." He stood back up and walked with Bilbo into the kitchen.

Bombur was there, and he beamed at them. "Hungry, Bilbo?" The rotund Dwarf asked with a knowing smile.

"Famished." Bilbo pulled himself up onto a stool and leaned against the table. He watched as Bombur fussed about, making him a plate full of meats and cheeses and small potatoes. "Eat that up and I'll find you some bread and fruit." He turned and went about it.

A cup of milk was sat at his elbow. "We got this fresh this morning," Balin told him as he sat down beside him.

Bilbo smiled and began to eat, enjoying the food and the milk. He'd halfway cleaned his plate when Bombur brought him crusty bread and three different fruits. "We have some kippers," the Dwarf told him, "if you want me to grill you some."

"I think this will do for now. Thank you, Bombur." He smiled at the Dwarf then focused on his meal. He felt swollen and sluggish once he'd finished filling himself, but it was a pleasant feeling after not much to eat in the woods, scraps as he scurried along in the dungeons, and broth while he was sick. "I've never been that hungry that I recall."

Both the Dwarves chuckled at him. "You should rest." Balin moved to stand. "You're still on the mend, however well you might feel."

With a sigh and a groan, he got to his feet, rubbing his bloated belly. "Maybe I over did it," he admitted as he walked with Balin back to the room he'd been sleeping in.

The Dwarf only chuckled at him again, and pushed open his door. "I have to meet with Thorin. You rest, and I will see you at supper, if you're up to it."

Bilbo groaned at the idea of more food before climbing onto the bed. He faintly heard the door closed, but he was half asleep even as he put his head on the pillow. When he woke, he felt like he'd only just gone to sleep, but Óin was at the side of the bed looking him over with Kíli standing not too far behind him. He offered them a tired smile.

"I want you to rest up through tomorrow, but I think the sickness has passed." Óin informed Bilbo. "No more stunts with the river. If you'd taken much more water in, you'd have drowned. Wouldn't bode well for our journey, and I'd hate to think what Balin would… Well, you're nearly back up to snuff, so rest and relax. Won't be much room for it after we leave here."

He frowned at the Dwarf, wondering what he was going to say about Balin, but he didn't press. "Can you ask Bombur to bring me my meal?"

"Oh!" Kíli moved over to the dresser. "I've got it right here, Master Baggins." He walked over to the bed with the tray. On it was a full plate with kippers, ham, potatoes, beans, crusty bread, and what looked to be barley or some other grain. A bowl of cream and fruit rested beside it as well as a tall glass of some beverage or other. There was also a small wrapped parcel, and Bilbo eyed it. "That's from Master Balin. He had to go out with Thorin and Dwalin to take care of some stuff. Said he'd been holding onto it for quite a while, and it was time you had it."

Bilbo let the tray rest in his lap and picked up the package. It was light, small, but he could feel the general shape of the item inside. There was a prickling of tears in his eyes. "Thank you, Óin, Kíli. I… I would like to be alone now, if that's not too much trouble."

"Bilbo…?" Kíli frowned at him, looking concerned, but Óin took the prince by the arm and left the room with him, shushing him to leave Bilbo in peace.

The Hobbit opened the package once he was alone, tears falling from his eyes as he looked on his father's pipe, once again whole. He didn't know how it'd been done, and before he looked very closely, he couldn't even see where it'd been broken. Meal forgotten, he clutched the pipe close and blubbered like a baby over it.

It took him quite a while to settle enough to rest the pipe to the side so he could eat his meal. He ate what he could, but his mind felt jumbled and his stomach felt tight with nerves and emotion. Eating what he could, he leaned forward to set the tray at the end of the bed so he could stand to take it over to the dresser Kíli had used for it earlier.

Tired despite only being awake a short time, he climbed back into bed and took the pipe in hand. As he lay there, clutching it, his mind wondered again to Balin. He tried to put definition to the emotions he was feeling about his friend. They were not unwelcome feelings, but they were so intense it nearly took his breath away. Part of him knew what it was he was feeling; he'd seen it enough with others in the Shire, especially his parents. He also felt an ache, for having unknowingly given his heart to a Dwarf, he knew he'd resigned himself to worse pain than he'd already imagined for his return home.

Bilbo hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until he felt a hand at his hair. The touch was light and gentle. Shifting, he opened his eyes and looked up. Balin gave him a small smile from where he stood beside the bed. "Your fever seems to be completely gone," he said as he moved to sit on the small stool that had been brought in days before just for that purpose.

"Óin wants me to rest through tomorrow, but he said the sickness is gone." Bilbo slowly sat up and stretched.

"I didn't mean to wake you, lad. It's the middle of the night. You should get some more rest." Balin pulled out his pipe, a new one he'd had to find in Lake Town because his own had been lost. Which begged the question how he'd kept hold of Bilbo's.

"The pipe… Thank you, Balin." Bilbo picked his father's pipe up from where he'd been sleeping curled around it, and how childish was that, clinging to such a thing in his sleep. "I don't know how it was fixed, or how you managed to get it here, but thank you." He felt tears in the corners of his eyes again. "You've been far too kind to me."

Balin was silent for a moment, not that unusual for the Dwarf. The scent of the earthy, mossy leaf the Men had in their market filled the air. There was just a hint of spice to it, probably to counter the mustiness it had. Bilbo wasn't too much a fan of the flavor; he'd tried it briefly before Óin had fussed about his lungs being irritated enough. Though, the way it'd made him cough and expel fluid from them had not been lost on the Dwarf. Bilbo was grateful he'd not had to relive the experience, given the thoughtful look Óin had on his face at the time. The scent, though, wasn't horrible. The earthiness reminded him of the Shire.

"I'm just glad you have it back, Bilbo," Balin finally spoke. He smiled at the Hobbit. "We'll be moving on to the mountain in three days," he said. "So maybe you should rest up for all of them, just to be on the safe side."

"I can't stay abed that long. I can just imagine what Thorin thinks about me lazing about." He snorted softly. Thorin had no real use for someone that wasn't being of use.

Balin gave a soft grunt. "Let me worry about Thorin. He has more to think about than what you're doing. You have the hardest job of all, once we make it to Erebor, and you've suffered enough already for choosing to help us. A few more days rest won't hurt anything." He smiled at Bilbo.

"Shouldn't you be resting, now I mean. You said it's the middle of the night." Bilbo frowned a little. Why _was_ Balin there in the middle of the night? He could have easily checked on Bilbo in the morning.

"Aye. Probably so. I wanted to look in on you first." Balin smoked his pipe and offered another small smile.

"I'm fine." Bilbo shifted on the bed. "But I won't be if I have to worry about you. You need rest." Looking closely, he noticed how tired the Dwarf was. He'd been too sick to really notice before. Had Balin rested at all after getting to Lake Town?

"I'll go down to my bedroll in a bit. Don't fuss." He chuckled, eyes twinkling in amusement. He seemed to always be amused when Bilbo got his dander up, though why Bilbo had no idea.

"Bedroll?" Bilbo frowned deeper. "Nonsense. You'll stay here." He was not going to sleep in a bed knowing that Balin was sleeping on the hard floor, bedroll or no bedroll.

Balin stared at him a moment. "Lad, several of us are sleeping on our bedrolls. It's alright." He smiled gently.

"No." Bilbo said forcefully. "Now put out that pipe and get over here." He didn't care what the others had to do. There was room in the bed for probably Balin and one or two of the others, as well as Bilbo, but the Hobbit was only concerned with Balin.

The Dwarf laughed and shook his head. "You are a rather bossy Hobbit, when you're of a mind." He snuffed out his pipe, though, then stood to walk around to the other side of the bed. "I can't deny that the thought of something softer is very appealing. If it will make you rest better, me sleeping here, then I won't say no."

Bilbo gave his own laugh. "You are a crafty Dwarf, Balin, and clever with your words." He grinned at the Dwarf.

"Of course. How else could I get Thorin to do anything, if I wasn't?" He asked before climbing up to lie beside the Hobbit.

Chuckling, Bilbo settled down to sleep again. He shifted closer to Balin, unable to help himself as he was drawn to the warmth and the comforting scent that was purely Balin's own. "I won't tell him you said that."

Balin reached out and squeezed Bilbo's hand briefly. "Probably for the best you don't."

Silence followed that, and Bilbo again fell asleep. When he woke up the next morning, he'd curled himself up against Balin's side and tucked his head on his shoulder. A quiet rumble was vibrating under his ear, and he realized Balin was speaking softly in the Dwarven tongue to someone. His arm was around Bilbo's back, holding the Hobbit close to him as well, so he clearly wasn't disturbed by the position they found themselves in.

Bilbo, however, felt his face heat and he shifted to sit up. The voices quieted completely and he blinked blearily to find Dwalin standing beside the bed smirking so broadly it might as well have been a grin. The Hobbit wasn't sure what he was smirking about, and the way his bladder felt he didn't overly care. He ignored the two, moving away and for the edge of the bed, stumbling a bit once on his feet as he wasn't quite awake enough for full dexterity in his limbs. He grumbled at the chuckle behind him. He'd deal with Dwalin later.

By the time he'd gone to relieve himself and came back, Dwalin was gone and Balin was up as well, stoking the fire in the small hearth in the room. "I'll go get you breakfast, lad." Balin offered him a small smile.

Bilbo thought to protest, that he was able to go down and eat with everyone else, but he had no idea what time it was, if they'd already eaten or not, and he still wasn't sure why Dwalin had been so amused at his expense. It was probably best not to deal with the large Dwarf. "Thank you, Balin." He gave him a small smile and went to sit on the bed to wait.

Breakfast was quiet, the two of them eating together without talk. Bilbo had a lot on his mind, so that suited him fine. Afterward, Balin took their trays and told him he would see him that evening, as he had things to see to with Dwalin. Not having expected the Dwarf to stick around all day, Bilbo smiled and told him to have a pleasant day before sitting quietly. Without much to do besides play with the pipe that somehow was _still_ in bed with him, Bilbo dozed off from the boredom.

He didn't see Balin again until right before they were to leave for the mountain. Bofur had told him that Thorin was keeping Balin and Dwalin both busy making preparations when the Hobbit had finally given in and asked after the Dwarf. He tried not to be disappointed, to be upset when Balin couldn't make the time to spend at least a few moments with him.

Whatever it might have meant to Bilbo to be so close to Balin that one night, sharing the bed, he knew it had only been the act of a friend on Balin's part. It would probably be a good idea, all around, to distance himself from the Dwarf before the inevitable happened. Maybe he could save himself some pain that way.

As they got in the boats to take them to the shore of the lake, Bilbo followed behind Bofur in silence, refusing to let himself look for Balin amongst the others. He saw him, nonetheless, standing beside Thorin and directing the others with the supplies they were loading into the boats. It shouldn't have made him feel so happy and so sad at the same time to see his friend, and he hated that he had to go and complicate their friendship with such feelings.

He stayed with Bombur and Bofur, listening silently and staring at the water as Bofur joked and sang loudly to entertain the company. Everyone was happy to be getting so close to the mountain, everyone but Bilbo. A chill grew in his stomach, in his chest, settling there and making him feel miserable.

He couldn't shake the funk even as they trudged over land toward the mountain. The few times Balin sat with him were only marginally helpful, and in time the Dwarf stopped trying to comfort him with words or asking after what was wrong. Bilbo had no answer to give him, none he wanted to at any rate, so he let it be assumed the fear of going into the mountain, the fear of the Dragon, were weighing on the Hobbit. No one looked poorly on him for it, especially those that remembered the heat of Smaug's breath, the scent of his flame, and the sound of burning flesh and painful screams.

After they made it to the mountain… Bilbo could never have imagined how horrible things would go, and it wasn't the Dragon that was the problem. Blast Dwarves and their love for gold and gems. They weren't much better than the damnable Dragon.

Keeping to himself, hording the Arkenstone in his pocket, Bilbo watched the people he'd grown to care about turn into strangers. Thorin, it wasn't a surprise, really. He'd heard enough in Rivendell, from Smaug, and observed enough to know the Dwarf was obsessive about the stone, but he'd never imagined it to be this bad.

Bilbo could never have imagined the cold and hateful gazes of the Dwarves, of having his life hanging in Thorin's grasp so completely. He never thought the time would come he'd be cast away so completely. Hindsight wouldn't change the choices he'd made. Each one had been made with the best interest of his friends in mind.

The battle had been terrifying, and how he'd made it through was still a bit of a blur. Afterward, he stuck close to Gandalf as much as possible, though he hesitated when the Wizard went to talk with the Dwarves. The sting of Thorin's actions and words, the pain from the cold looks… It was all so fresh. No matter the assurances that the gold madness was gone from them, Bilbo wasn't sure if he wanted to see them.

So, he found a place to himself where he curled up to be overlooked and forgotten, wanting to be small and unseen by all those bustling about. He tucked his face into his knees, and wasn't it something he was so skinny that it was far easier than it had been less than a year before. Bilbo clutched at the tattered hems of his trousers, fingers itching for the pipe that had become a lifeline for him but was lost to him somewhere inside the cursed Dwarven mountain, and he did his best to fight off the tears and pain that threatened to swallow him whole.

How long he sat there, he did not know. The world around him was a constant wave of noise. But the hand that was suddenly on his shoulder jerked him from his melancholy. Without looking, he knew who it was. That hand had rested in that spot so very many times. A soft sob tore its way out of Bilbo's throat and he buried his face harder against his knees.

Once the first one came, the rest poured out of him. He didn't fight as he was pulled into strong arms and held tight. His hands let go of his pants to grip hold of a heavy coat and the various straps on the strong torso. "Shhhh," a rough, soothing voice murmured into his ear. "I've got you."

Bilbo cried and cried until he didn't know how he could cry anymore. Throat sore and eyes feeling dry and puffy, he sat back and wiped his sleeve against his nose, not worried in the least about propriety. He was too distracted by the soft smile and gentle gaze looking at him from a face he didn't think he'd see up so close again. His fingers curled in Balin's coat tightly.

"Bilbo…" Balin gave a small shake of his head and pulled the Hobbit back into his arms. "I'm so sorry. I do not feel right asking for your forgiveness."

The Hobbit shook his head as it rested against the Dwarf's chest. "Don't. It wasn't your fault."

"You're too forgiving, my friend." A large hand pushed into the curls at the back of his head and pulled his face up to meet Balin's gaze. "You don't know the depths of my betrayal. You don't understand that I…"

Bilbo put his fingers over Balin's lips. "Shhh. It doesn't matter. Not now." He tried to smile at him but he could feel it fall flat.

Nodding, Balin leaned back and reached into his pocket. "I have something for you." He pulled out a pipe, Bilbo's pipe. "When I found it… Bilbo…"

Throwing caution to the wind, knowing he couldn't stand it another moment otherwise, Bilbo threw his arms around Balin's neck and pressed his lips to the Dwarf's. He had no idea what he was doing, experience wise, but he knew he wanted nothing more in that moment than to express himself. A kiss seemed the logical way to sum everything up at once.

The Dwarf went still under him. He pulled back, flushed at his forwardness. "I… I'm sorry… I…" He went to scamper off Balin and away, but strong hands grabbed his hips and held him in place. Bilbo swallowed thickly and stared at the Dwarf's chest.

"Bilbo," Balin spoke softly, leaning forward to push his forehead to the Hobbit's. "Peace, Bilbo. It is alright." He stared at Balin's mouth, afraid to see the look in his eyes. He saw lips curve into a gentle smile. The hands on his hips moved, strong arms circling around him and pulling all the closer to Balin. "I'm rather glad you made the first move. I probably would have dragged my feet for much longer."

"I don't understand." Bilbo nibbled at his lower lip.

Balin chuckled. "Yes, you do." He nudged his nose against the Hobbit's before kissing him softly. "Come on. Gandalf said you've not been eating. Let's go join the others." Bilbo stiffened in his arms. "It'll be alright. I'll be with you."

He continued to hesitate before finally moving to stand up. Balin would keep him safe, he hoped. Before the mountain, he would have never questioned his safety in the Dwarf's presence. He hated that he felt any measure of doubt.

Seeing the others again was almost surreal. They each touched him or hugged him, feeling remorse for their actions; all of them, at least, besides Thorin. The king sat, looking worse for wear, watching Bilbo in silence. It didn't surprise the Hobbit. What did was after the meal when Thorin pulled him aside and got down on his knee to beg the Hobbit's forgiveness.

He hugged the king in response, forgiving him easily. For such a proud creature as Thorin to grovel it had to be heartfelt. He smiled and put a hand to Thorin's cheek. "It's alright."

The king gave him a faint smile and stood. Bowing a little, he turned and left without a word, glancing behind Bilbo briefly as he did so. Turning, Bilbo found Balin standing there, hand resting casually on the sword at his hip. He lifted a brow as he walked over to him. "Ready to defend me, Mister Balin?" He asked, smirking a little.

"Yes." Balin put a hand on his shoulder. "Even my king will bring no harm to my Hobbit." He squeezed the shoulder under his hand.

Bilbo thought over that. He'd been called Balin's Hobbit before. "They knew, as far back as Beorn's, didn't they?" He stepped closer to Balin.

"I suspect they did. To them, my interest was obvious. I had to make sure they didn't try to steal you away." He grinned at Bilbo. "Let's go rest, Bilbo. Tomorrow, we will discuss your plans to return to the Shire. I made a promise, after all, and I think it would be nice to learn more of your people, to spend time there."

Bilbo stared at him. "What about Erebor? What about Thorin?"

"Erebor is here, free of Smaug, and Thorin has all the others. I will see them again, in time." He put an arm around his back, pulling him closer so that the Hobbit was flush to him. "I have something more important. I am sorry I lost sight of that, for a time."

Cheeks warm and a happy smile on his lips, he tucked his face against the Dwarf's chest. Everything was happening so fast, but he was getting rather used to that. The entire journey had been full of sudden, unexpected twists and turns. This one was far nicer than the rest had been. And, if he took some perverse pleasure in imagining Balin meeting Lobelia, and dealing with her, that was his secret to keep; it made going home all the more appealing.


End file.
